


The Most Dangerous Game

by teiidae



Category: Pokemon
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, buckle up it's learning time, in which lusamine and guzma have to learn how to not be awful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teiidae/pseuds/teiidae
Summary: What happens when two adults try to work through their problems after they’ve started a relationship? A bunch of bullshit, that’s what.





	1. Chapter 1

The Aether Foundation. A glittering paradise for the abused and beaten; the downtrodden and the weakened; those without direction and those with vision. Situated as a blinding spec on the horizon indistinguishable from the sun, and run by Lusamine, a beautiful woman in her early forties, this was a place of healing and growth. Nobody disputed Lusamine’s nuanced leadership, especially because she seemed so intent on doing exactly what she needed to.

She humbled herself in the presence of others. Or at least appeared to to the untrained eye. Goodness, people could be gullible and easily misdirected when they weren’t paying attention.

The story of a beaten pokemon going through rehabilitation was much more interesting than a supposed hidden agenda. Pokemon were meant to be taken care of. Nurtured to full health and kept from the cruel world outside the pristine walls designed to confuse and contain. Lusamine really truly did love every pokemon in this world – as well as the other.

She could remember the first time she saw it. It was only for a brief moment. A few seconds according to all the humming machines gathering data in the lower laboratories. The world she had known tore itself open around a singular point of highly focused energy and the darkness beyond flashed into existence before flickering away and leaving a strange creature in its wake.

A pokemon from another world!

Even now, the moment stuck with her. She poured so much energy into developing her next course of action, that her mind began to wander in the times she was idle. When she didn’t have to focus on numbers and probabilities or searches and hypotheses, she sat in her private office, legs crossed and fingers tapping the arm of the chair. Everything returned to her when she was sitting in that chair – for better or for worse.

Her hair was draped over her arms and she leaned back into the soft silk, looking down her nose at a man kneeling in front of her. She drew breath quietly, eyes fierce. Her momentary loss of concentration seemed to tear the tension in the room asunder, but as soon as she had regained eye contact with her guest, the tension tightened once more. One could liken it to a noose tied around the neck of the defenseless: any attempts at spoken word were strangled from the throat. He was not allowed to speak now.

Guzma was his name. She had picked him up after he’d declared his universal hatred for authority figures and started a cute little gang of wandering teens and young adults. A meeting by pure chance; not sarcasm by any stretch of the imagination. He’d had his flock posture and jeer, but she had had a job to do and no amount of jostling was going to prevent her from getting what she had come for.

Near Po Town, funnily enough. Calling it a stand-off wouldn’t have done the interaction justice. She was there because pokemon were being hurt and he was there because he wanted to make as big a mess as he possibly could before running off.

He had been noticeably shabby at that time. Unpolished and screaming. He was the leader because he had powerful pokemon at his disposal. Hulking bug types that packed a lot more of a punch than initially thought and a huge number of teens willing to throw themselves into the fray for approval.

The fight didn’t last long. The Grunts were untrained and unsophisticated. They were easily defeated, their pokemon taken and cared for at specialized facilities dotting the Islands. The stalemate came with Guzma.

Lusamine stood across from him, a mountain of destroyed property between them - her Lilligant twirling and his Golisopod panting. Admittedly, she had been surprised at first to see such a strong trainer trying to lead a group of misfits, but embedded in Golisopod’s thick shell was a Z-Crystal, and suddenly everything made sense. A former trial-goer.

He had words for her. Filthy words unbecoming of a man in his thirties trying to figure out what it meant to be a leader, and how to handle the responsibility of actually being a Boss with a capital B. Despite what the Grunts would do for him, Guzma had no idea how to handle real power and Lusamine could see that from a mile away.

Golisopod didn’t stand a chance against a tactical woman. It keeled over after exhausting all its power and Guzma went down with it, pathetically trying to push further to prove he was the best. Luckily for him, nobody saw his downfall except for a woman who wanted to use that misguided and directionless energy for something more beneficial.

Beyond the tight conversation after his humiliating defeat, Guzma agreed to follow the one thing he despised above all else so he could have the power and acceptance he so desperately craved. Being lavished upon by authority was not what he wanted. He wanted to belong.

Easy pickings when he had enough recklessness to invade Po Town and turn it into a den for the lost…

Lusamine blinked slowly, still stuck in the idle trenches of a false pensiveness. Things really had been piling up recently, especially with a huge hole opening up in the sky briefly. It seemed like it was one thing after another.

Gladion took her experiment. Lillie had run off with Cosmog and the search for the star attraction of the Ultra World was underway. So much senseless noise from so many invasive thoughts. How was everything falling apart so easily now? What happened? Was it her?

A soft grunt snapped Lusamine from her reflections this time, and she furrowed her brow ever so slightly. In response, she shifted her leg quickly and smacked her guest across the face with the tip of her shoe. Her demeanor flared to life and she bristled with muted hostility.

“You know better than to interrupt me while I’m thinking,” she said, her voice brimming with cynicism.

Not a word in response.

“My my, Guzma, you look particularly beautiful when you give me that look. Messy.” She smiled, showing her teeth through her thin lips. “I can appreciate that once in a while.”

Guzma, remaining completely silent, just looked at her through the white bangs that hung just over his eyes. He turned his face away but still kept appropriate eye contact, looking condescending even while he was on his knees before a woman more powerful than he was. The nerve.

Blood leaked from his nose and he pursed his lips. He looked tired, but expectant, one eye blackened from a previous engagement with the lovely Lusamine. It took all his willpower not to smile at her. He was never supposed to smile when they were like this.

He was kneeling in front of her, hands bound behind his back so he wouldn’t get too impatient. Sadly, one if his many flaws. It was an effective way of keeping him subdued. He couldn’t lash out if his hands were behind his back.

“Are you going to clean up after yourself?” Lusamine asked once Guzma had shifted. She pressed her foot to the side of his face, smearing a little of the blood on her shoe.

Guzma looked from Lusamine’s commanding eyes to the smeared blood and back again before closing his eyes in submission. He was a smudge of dirt in her beautiful home and he understood that other than this time that they spent together, he was not wanted. With a dejected sigh, he kissed the tip of the shoe and lapped up the dirty mess he’d made, not daring to look at his Mistress or move away from her unspoken command.

Lusamine’s heart fluttered with joy as Guzma silently and willingly lowered himself before her like this. It permeated her voice as she spoke once more. “Good boy.”

She rose from her seat, kicking her shoes off and pushing Guzma back until his neck strained with effort. He was trying so hard not to rebel against her and she loved seeing that side of him. The natural desire to submit in fear grappling with the desire to lash out. It was easily the best part about him when they were together like this.

“I’d let you have your way if you weren’t so messy all the time.”

Guzma grunted in response; another attempt at remaining submissive. Now was not the time to struggle against her decisions. Not when she was so close to his throat like that. His back was arched and he was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t a wimp and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck this up like he had last time.

Lusamine pressed her lips to Guzma’s throat, nipping the skin with her teeth until a bruise formed. Another handful followed, Guzma growing warmer and warmer with each bite, until he could feel her warm breath on his ear.

“You’d like to have special treatment, wouldn’t you?” Her whispers were so soft, Guzma almost couldn’t keep himself quiet. He wished she would just fuck him already. He’d been a good boy after all. “But your face is disgusting.”

Guzma licked his lips, tasting the staunch copper on his tongue. “Oops,” he whispered back, a sly eagerness slipping through his tiny crooked smile.

Lusamine wasn’t so receptive to the slip of attitude. Guzma immediately regretted opening his mouth as soon as her fingers were laced in his hair. He felt her nails against his scalp and he groaned as she applied more pressure, nearly ripping hair from the roots.

“Brave today, are we?” Lusamine whispered, her mouth still pressed to Guzma’s ear. “Today is not the day, Guzma. Wipe your face before you speak to me. We are not in Po Town, you leech.”

Guzma grinned for half a second, his body responding almost instantly to the itch of pain. Redness creeped from his cheeks to the rest of his face and he shifted under Lusamine’s grip. Moments later, he was blinded by a silky cloth. Lusamine cleaned the blood from his nose and ghosted her lips across his. He had barely felt them and he already pined for more attention.

She never gave him as much as he needed. The touches were scarce and he wanted nothing more than to feel her against him, controlling him in ways he couldn’t imagine on his own. He imagined that she would, maybe just one time, step on him until he begged for her to stop.

He liked doing that. Begging.

“Do you think you are deserving today, Guzma?” Lusamine asked, running a hand down the front of his shirt. A couple spots of blood stained the white, but she would allow it this one time if Guzma answered her correctly.

“If I say no, does that make me worthy?” Guzma asked softly.

“Nothing makes you worthy,” she replied, her hands traveling lower and lower until she pressed against his hardened cock. “Cute.”

Guzma grit his teeth, but he knew he wouldn’t respond. The fire pooling in the pit of his stomach burned as Lusamine ran her hands over him. He wanted her so badly, it made his head reel. The way she smelled, the way she commanded others. She was the only person he would ever bend over for, and he could hardly stand that he couldn’t seem to muster the courage to ask for more.

Maybe because he was reasonably sure she wouldn’t give it to him.

He desperately wanted to ask her, but before he could force the sticky words from the back of his throat, he felt her slim fingers wrap around him. His breath hitched, blocked by his unspoken words, and he immediately moved to allow her more access. This was it. They were finally starting.

He still did not look at her. Even when she pulled her delicious lips away from his and let his hair go, he did not look at her. This was shameful. He was before her, hands bound, head down, and he would not look at her unless she demanded it because she was the beautiful ruler to the filthy subject.

Lusamine was _masterful_ in the way she took Guzma into her hand. Agonizingly slow, stroking so softly that Guzma wasn’t even sure she was actually touching him or if he was floating in the void of possibility. Either way, he faltered.

Whatever rebelliousness that had been wedged in his stubborn gut was gone and he melted into her hands like warm clay. She was speaking to him and he couldn’t understand in the murky depths of his selfishness. It was like every coiled wire in his body was tightening, ready to break at a moment’s notice and as soon as he expressed his joy, it was ripped away from him.

Suddenly the frantic heartbeat became a hammering cacophony of freefalling fear. His stomach was flipping around like a beached fish and he lost the lungful of air as that ghost of pleasure drifted away and was replaced by arid pining.

“Why did you stop?” That was his first mistake.

Lusamine did not answer him. She stood up, pressed her foot to his chest and kicked him with enough force to send him on his back. At least he was spared the embarrassment of his cock flopping around, but he winced as his hands twitched awkwardly underneath his weight.

“What the hell?” That was his second mistake.

Lusamine couldn’t fathom why Guzma just could not do as he was told. This whole affair started off kilter. She was distracted, he was too rebellious for his own good, things were falling out of place in her perfect world. It was a mess and Lusamine, however unintentionally, was taking it out on Guzma.

Guzma didn’t see it coming, but Lusamine had stepped into her shoes again and stood over him, this glassy look in her eye. Guzma sucked in a breath, the façade broken, and he squirmed around so he could get off his aching hands. Lusamine kicked him, baring her teeth and hissing unintelligible words at him.

The kicks weren’t particularly vicious, but they did sting after a while and Guzma had to hurriedly tear his hands free before Lusamine worked herself up too much. His skin was raw at the wrists, but he rolled over and caught her foot as she aimed a kick at his stomach.

“Lusamine!” Gumza barked. “Stop!”

Her foot felt so delicate in his large hands all of a sudden. He was still on the floor, blood dripping from his nose again and landing in small dots on the perfect white tile. What just happened? Why did their scene just sudden shatter in front of him? Was it something he’d done? Said?

“Yo, what’s wrong?” That Boss mentality returned and he was on his feet, slouched over, but still grimacing. The bleeding didn’t even bother him. He was pissed. “Why you always like this? You drift off and then take it out on me when I say something? The fuck is up with that?”

Lusamine, snorted. “There’s nothing wrong. You’re always distracting me because you can’t stay focused.”

Guzma growled. “I’m one hundred percent committed to this. I don’t back down from anything. I’ll let you kick me in the face if it will make you happy, but you act like you’re the only one who gets to have anything. Two can play, you know. Remember I’m not a pushover.”

Lusamine huffed and turned her head for only a brief moment before straightening up. How dare he disrespect her like this. First her husband disappears, then her children leave her, and now the only other person deserving of her affection is shooting off his mouth.

Distractions. All these distractions making her lose her way. Guzma was here because he was useful. He was here because he was beautiful and obedient. And she couldn’t stand that right now he wasn’t leaving her alone. She had to think!

Her tenseness was palpable. Even Guzma could see she was in a bad mood and this pissed him off even more. Whatever had just happened wasn’t sitting well with him. Lusamine had been fine just a few minutes ago. She was going to whip him into shape and force him into her mold for just a few hours and now he was brimming with contempt. She was always like this when she got too much into her own head.

Fucking authoritative assholes. Always cramping his style. Prim and proper all the time. Disgusting. Maybe it was time to make a mess and break some shit and he was more than happy to do so. Let her be selfish all she wanted. He could be just as selfish. In fact, he would be more selfish than she was.

They barely said a word to each other. The silence turned to anger and the opposing energies rose to unfiltered stress and contempt so quickly, it was a wonder sparks weren’t showering the two of them. Pokeballs were out and at the ready, their knuckles white with pent up frustration neither of them could seem to channel.

They were off. Lilligant and Golisopod nose to nose, the two trainers practically bursting at the seams. A soft knock on the door sliced through the haze of swirling and unrelated emotions and both Guzma and Lusamine turned to glare at the intruder.

It was Ms. Wicke. She looked worried, and even more so when she came face to face with a battle. The room felt hot and Ms. Wicke frowned deeply.

“My apologies, Madame President,” Ms. Wicke said, bowing deeply. “It’s urgent. Faba is getting a reading over Akala Island and he requested that you come immediately.”

Guzma snorted, “That seems to be the one thing she can’t seem to do.”

Lusamine audibly snarled and hurled a vase at Guzma. “Get out!”

Guzma didn’t move, as though he were daring that vase to touch him. Golisopod stepped in and smashed the vase before it had the chance to touch the brazen Skull Leader. Shards of ceramic flew in every direction and Lusamine quivered in rage. When she spoke again, she sounded much more sinister.

“Get. Out.”

Guzma twirled in place and bowed sloppily, like he was still pretending to be her little toy. “As you wish, Madame President. I’ll be sure to let the door hit me on the way out. Don’t mind the mess though. Seems that’s all I’m good for.”

Without another word, Guzma pushed passed Ms. Wicke, who looked on in abject horror. What had she just witnessed? Golisopod edged passed her as well, making gurgling noises with each step. Lusamine didn’t relax until Guzma was out of sight, but she still looked markedly hostile. Ms. Wicke didn’t draw attention to it, but she did clear her throat.

“Madame President, should I alert Faba that you are coming?”

Lusamine huffed, her chest tight and her knuckles still white from clutching the ball so ferociously. When she spoke, the hostility was gone, but Ms. Wicke, being a long time member of the Foundation and closest to Lusamine, heard the melting pot of emotions.

“I will be there momentarily.”

Ms. Wicke nodded and excused herself to fetch something for Lusamine to drink. In the far distance, alarms rang, breaking the relative silence of Lusamine’s private quarters. Guzma must have been making a scene.

There was no chatter as Lusamine finally descended to the laboratories. She blinded herself to the damage Guzma had done on the way out, and she didn’t let her irritation dance across her face as workers explained what happened as she walked with urgency to the room Faba was working in. All of the noise went in one ear and out the other.

Tomorrow would be another day. A better day to deal with all this bullshit. And the first thing she was going to do was teach Guzma a lesson.


	2. Chapter 2

If anybody talked to him he was going to punch them in the fucking face. Nobody fucked with Guzma and got away unscathed, especially when he was in a piss poor mood.

As usual, it was dark by the time he got back to Ula’Ula Island, and the locals along the coast steered clear of him as he made his way to Po Town. It was nice instilling fear in others. Made him feel like a true Big Boss. He didn’t have to work for it and he didn’t have demand it any longer.

All of Alola knew who he was and he felt powerful.

But he also bristled with agitation. Why was Lusamine such a control freak every single second of the day? Why was she always so neat and lined up? He hated that shit. She could never relax around him and now that he was trudging along the path into town, knees deep in his own thoughts, it was bothering him more than it had been at the Aether Foundation.

The dirt path morphed into a sludge-like muck as he got closer to the entrance of Po Town, the trapped rage boiling over itself. Once he got to the door and found it locked from the inside, his snarled viciously and kicked the door with the ferocity of someone who just wanted to break something. The echo of the metal vibrations alerted the Grunts on the other side, but Guzma already was drowning in his own sea of fury.

He threw his weight against the door and it fell open with ease this time, forcing a loss of momentum and a spectacular fall into the mud. The Grunts looked at each other, visibly terrified that of all the people to be kicking down the door at that moment, it was Guzma. Big Boss Guzma. The oldest Grunt, no older than nineteen by the look of him, shook in place. There was a thick, black, key in his hand, and he immediately dropped it into the mire.

As he stammered a genuine and high pitched apology, the clouds opened up and sheets of icy rain blanketed the town, scattering the Grunts farther inside and leaving Guzma stunned.

His hands were covered in filth and Lusamine’s voice rang between his ears, a buzzing reminder of his inadequacies.

“We are not in Po Town, you leech.”

He stared at the mud, rain trickling through his hair and dripping from the tip of his nose. He was shaking. Quivering in place as the rain soaked through his clothing and drenched his skin in a chill that fractured him. There were no words for the isolation he felt.

The Grunt, who hadn’t had enough sense to run, looked on helplessly as Guzma finally rose from the ground, mud sticking to his pants and shoes as though it were trying to weigh him down. Anything to give this poor soul the chance to run. Even as other Grunts yelled from the shelter of broken down vehicles or dilapidated and vandalized houses, this single Grunt couldn’t seem to find the will to move. Guzma’s presence was overpowering, washing him away.

“You know what they say about me?” Guzma asked, just barely loud enough to pierce the hiss of the rain. A contemptuous smile spread across his dirtied lips. “I’m the hated Boss that beats you down and beats you down until you can’t get up. Did you do this?” He motioned to the gate.

The Grunt shook his head, but his fate had been decided the moment he unlocked the door. Guzma straightened up, his full height dwarfing the Grunt, who could only seem to cower. A headbutt later and the Grunt was sprawled in the mud on his back, blood pouring from his nose. Guzma fell on top of him, hands balled into tight fists, teeth gnashed together like some wild beast.

Blood was smeared on his forehead, but it hardly mattered when he was already filthy and drenched. He punched the Grunt in the face and their eye swelled shut immediately. Guzma taunted his weak prey, mocking the fragmented words that the Grunt couldn’t seem to get out.

“You must be new if you think you can lock the fucking gate when I’m gone.” Another punch muffling begs for forgiveness.

Guzma snarled and gripped the Grunt’s shirt, pulling him up until they were nearly nose to nose. The poor Grunt was squirming, trying to wriggle away, panting and wheezing, unable to form any sort of coherent sentence behind all the sputtering.

“P-p-please!” Finally, some words. “P-p-please! S-Sir!”

The Grunt began to cry, whimpering and still trying to struggle away even though it was clear Guzma wanted to hit him again. Suddenly, the aggression snapped in half and Guzma’s stomach dropped, transforming into a lead ball deep in his gut. Please, Sir.

How the fuck was he supposed to think when these new and untrained Grunts were always calling him Sir like that? Sir. Sir. Sir.

His guts churned and he felt like he was going to vomit. With a heaving motion and a tremendous roar, Guzma got off the Grunt and dragged him across the path to the barricade, mud squelching underfoot and the broken Grunt wheezing through an assumed broken nose. Two other, more seasoned Grunts lay in horror by the barricades, praying that Guzma wasn’t coming to beat them up as well.

“Get him away from me, NOW!” Guzma screamed.

He dropped the bloodied Grunt at the barricade and stormed off, fists still curled into tightened balls of violence, teeth still crushing together in primal fury. He didn’t stop until he came to a twisted tree. How could he stoop so low? How could he be just like the motherfucker who raised him?

He punched the tree, screaming with every scrape. His knuckles were calloused from many fights before now, but they didn’t stand a chance against gnarled and slippery bark. He kept punching the tree until his hands couldn’t stay balled up anymore; until blood seeped through and stained his palms; until he passed the brown skin into the pink fleshiness underneath.

He punched that tree until his voice was hoarse and he sank to his knees. Why was he even doing this? Why was he like this? Why was he so stupid!

“Guzma?”

Guzma didn’t move, still on his knees, still soaked from the rain. His glasses were cracked and he looked down at his hands. His bloody hands that he could only use to beat down and beat down and beat down until nobody could get up. Not even him.

Fuck.

“Guzma, get up.”

He struggled to his feet, swaying in a lost fog of evaporated hatred, and he turned around to face the only person who would ever dare approach him when he was so volatile. Plumeria, his one and only Admin. She looked only mildly concerned, but more annoyed, with a stiff frown and empty eyes. She had seen this before. Too many times to count.

“What do you want?” Guzma croaked. “Fuck off.”

Plumeria raised an eyebrow. She was holding an umbrella to stay dry, though it wasn’t really doing much to stave off the rain from the waist down. “You’ve been gone for days and the first thing you do when you get back is beat up the newbie? Classic of you, but you could at least check-in first.”

“He locked the door,” Guzma spat. “Nobody locks the FUCKING DOOR WHILE I’M GONE!”

Plumeria, though tempted to flinch and step back, did not. She was not immune to a beat down, but she was markedly braver than the average Grunt. Probably because she and Guzma had history. She was the closest thing to a friend a guy like Guzma was capable of making. And – to a certain extent – friends could get away with a bit more.

“Are you going to come inside now, or should I come back when you’ve beaten the tree to death?” she asked, that parched annoyance still evident. A clear mask, but an effective one when Guzma was this wired.

“Gonna make me shower too?” He shot back, despite knowing he needed one.

Plumeria made an awkward motion, determined to keep the top half of her body dry. “You look like a mess and we should spend some time together before you run off again. I’m sure you’d like to meet the newest thorn in our side.”

Great. More nonsense.

“Don’t talk to me,” Guzma growled, stalking to the destroyed mansion farthest away from the front gate. Po Town’s “pride and joy”. He paused briefly after passing Plumeria. “…Talk to me later.”

She followed after him, not offering the umbrella. There’d be a handful of Grunts begging her for information soon, especially after Guzma’s seemingly uncharacteristic outburst. The newbies would be the most curious and probably the most scared.

What an annoying mess.

 

\---

 

Lusamine could barely concentrate. Guzma’s departure stung, but she couldn’t really identify exactly why his words hurt and his actions hurt even more. Faba was explaining the intricate details of the latest Ultra Wormhole appearance, but Lusamine couldn’t focus quite right.

Ms. Wicke topped off the cup of tea Lusamine had been nursing throughout the meeting with Faba. She also offered a reassuring smile and a nod as Lusamine glanced at her, appreciative. Idleness was plaguing her again even though important matters required her undivided attention.

Bless Ms. Wicke for being so patient and able to steer her distracted mind.

“As you can see, Madam President,” Faba continued, finally coming off a tangent he had been entertaining for a while. “We are getting closer and closer to finding Cosmog once again. I really do think that these Ultra Wormholes appearing more often is not a coincidence. It must be directly influenced by Cosmog’s existence on the respective island.

“Which means we could deploy a search team to Akala immediately if you decide that is the appropriate course of action. Though I do believe the evidence supports it.”

Lusamine’s lips twitched. It could be considered a smile if one squinted a bit and turned their head. This was extraordinarily good news all things considering, and it almost wiped thoughts of the Team Skull leader from the forefront of her mind.

Of course, the implications forced the ghost smile to return as a frown once more. Gladion was probably roaming around Akala Island as well. The last check-in with Guzma revealed as much, but Gladion could travel fairly quickly and inconspicuously when he wanted to. So long as Gladion and Lillie did not cross paths, things would go smoother than they had been going recently.

“What would you like me to do?” Faba asked, stroking his small beard thoughtfully.

Lusamine looked into her cup and drank deeply. “I think it would be wise to send a specialized scouting team to the island.”

She drank deeply once more. The tea was delicious and sweet. It filled her with a peculiar warmth and settled the uncertainty that was brewing just behind a veil of intense concentration. A good cup was a rarity. Maybe it was affecting her like this because she was so bitter right now.

Faba nodded. “I can arrange for the team to leave now. Thank you, Madam President.”

Lusamine nodded and stood up, Ms. Wicke dutifully collecting the cups and sugar and accompanied Lusamine out of the conference room.

“I don’t like that he distracts me as well,” Lusamine admitted on the elevator to her private quarters. “I have to get this under control. Him under control.”

Ms. Wicke just blinked, not uttering a word, lest Lusamine take that as a negative sign. Of course she had no doubt that Lusamine would figure things out, but she wasn’t a fan of Guzma hanging around to begin with and she didn’t want to risk her job because she wanted to open her mouth when it wasn’t necessary.

“I feel like I was responsible for this,” Lusamine continued, her voice careful and deliberate. “I miscalculated something. I missed some small detail about him and didn’t grip tight enough when he pulled the leash to test me.”

Those last couple of words strained against the back of her throat. She hated not having pitch perfect power over others. She may have lost her husband and her children may have left her, but there was no way she was letting Guzma go. No matter what. He was an unusual and precious metal that could be molded, but broke easily when under pressure.

That had to have been where she went wrong. Too much pressure…

“He’s an impudent child.” A bit of anger. “Foolish and self-centered. Only cares about what he gets and gets nervous when things don’t go according to his shoddily constructed plans. Unrefined. Impatient.”

And beautiful. But Lusamine wouldn’t add that part. There was a reason she was drawn to him. A reason why even when she knew Guzma was difficult and selfish, she was still willing to work with him. Temper that metal into something more elegant. It just took time and she already had very little to spare.

“I should let him fester.”

Ms. Wicke raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Would you like someone to go to Po Town, Madam President?”

Lusamine stopped halfway to the door of her quarters. The sun was just beginning to set and it bathed the milky compound in golden light and warmth. The ocean was settling down before night arrived, and it felt almost magical in how serene it was. Lusamine rarely paid attention to sunset, but on days where she was particularly introspective, it seemed fitting.

Eerily so.

“He’s a mess,” she said finally. “But he will also hurt himself if he stews in his own emotions for too long. I don’t trust his only Admin to do anything to calm his storm. I’ll have to feed him something. A challenge that will make him feel good for overcoming. A person to absolutely destroy. Someone who can withstand humiliating physical punishment. Maybe someone who looks like his dad to offer a reminder of who is really in charge here. Do we have anybody like that?”

Ms. Wicke was arduously patient, only nodding in understanding until the question arose. “I believe we have a few employees who may fit that description. Would you like me to send the message to Faba?”

Lusamine thought for only a moment. “Yes. An intruder into Po Town should be just what Guzma needs to get his head straight again. Make sure Nanu is sufficiently distracted when he goes in. He’s a lot more observant than I feel comfortable. He’ll interfere because he loves those unruly kids.”

Ms. Wicke bowed. “I shall go as soon as the dishware has been cleaned, Madam President.”

“Thank you, Ms. Wicke,” Lusamine said. “Should Faba need clearer instructions, you know what number to call.”

Another bow. “Yes, Madam President. Have a good night.”

 

\---

 

“She wants me to what?” Faba asked, expression a lot more telling.

It was later in the night and Faba and Ms. Wicke were sitting in a conference room, exchanging gossip, but also sharing opinions – something that was frowned upon when in the President’s company.

“She wants to send someone that looks suspiciously like Guzma’s father into Po Town to pick a fight with him. She inferred that our employee would have to suffer a humiliating physical punishment, but she didn’t go much farther into detail.”

Faba looked at the glass on the table. It had a fruity flavored alcohol in it, but he hadn’t really been drinking it until now. He grabbed the glass and drained it.

“She is obsessed,” Faba hissed. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Ms. Wicke frowned. “You know me better than that, Faba, but she does have a point about him. And that concerns me. When she’s distracted, she’s a better employer, but when she’s distressed? Things can get a little crazy around here. You weren’t here when Mohn disappeared. It was like a part of her died in some aspect.”

Faba grimaced. “I don’t like sending my boys into the fray like that. The less I have to deal with those Team Skull punks, the better. But does she even know what will happen to my employee? Does she know what kind of humiliation they will face?”

Ms. Wicke shook her head, pointedly looking down at the folded hands in her lap.

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“Perhaps it won’t be that bad,” Ms. Wicke offered, her voice trailing off and lacking conviction.

“And if it turns into murder?” Faba exclaimed. “If I send someone who deliberately triggers this lunatic into a violent rage, how can I reassure them that they won’t end up on a metal table? You know that’s a very real threat and I don’t appreciate it.

“I take pride in my job for certain, but I was not hired to be a pawn in a MILF’s game of lover’s tag.”

Ms. Wicke’s frown deepened. “I don’t know what to tell you, Faba. She made an express order. She’ll expect them in Po Town by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I assume you understand the implications of that.”

Faba growled. “This is not what I had in mind when you wanted to share a drink.”

“Orders are orders,” Ms. Wicke said. “I’m sorry. Compensation will more than likely be provided. As well as paid vacation time and therapy if need be.”

Faba pinched the bridge of his nose, letting a huge sigh escape through his nostrils. He was not looking forward to the next conversation that he was going to have, but there was no way he would ignore a direct order. Nothing would be able to protect him from Lusamine if he chose to rebel.

“I’ll…I’ll make it happen. But if this doesn’t go well, I’m going to ensure you get fired.”

Ms. Wicke had never heard an emptier threat in her life, but she nodded anyway. So long as Faba complied, there wouldn’t be an issue. And so long as the employee sacrifice didn’t turn into a murder, Lusamine would be happy and complacent, and Guzma would likely come back to grovel at her feet the way she liked it.

Either way, the air felt stagnant and Ms. Wicke rose to her feet to get back to Lusamine’s quarters before she suspected that a different kind of conversation was happening. All was fair in love and war, but nobody liked to stay on the sidelines to watch it.

Though it wasn’t exactly clear what Ms. Wicke wanted. She had a duty to fulfill even if it meant being the messenger to a poor man’s sealed fate. Faba would eventually get over this little internalized rebellion. Ms. Wicke just had to make sure that he did so quietly. All for the betterment of the Aether Foundation…as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should continue this, shouldn't I? I'm a filthy guzamine shipper anyway, might as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from Tumblr. I've hidden the posts on Tumblr, though so they won't be seen there. I want to get all my fics uploaded here anyway because it's easier to track. Chapter 2 is the same. Chapters 3 and on will be uploaded here originally.


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